30th Millennium
The Webway, Heart of the Black Library
An Unknown Time Later
Removing Slaanesh's influence from my humble body was clearly no easy feat, if it had left me unconscious for an unknown length of time.
After all, She Who Thirsts was no ordinary entity. She was a full-fledged Chaos God who, even before her birth, had managed to wrap the entire Aeldari race in her grasp.
Even those who had resisted the corruption of excess and depravity during the final days of the Aeldari Empire still found their souls drawn to the Great Enemy after death.
And yes, I knew She had been born. I'd felt it with every fiber of my being, even from within the Sphere of the Old Ones. After waking, I spent a good ten minutes feeling as though someone were dumping entire oceans over me while I was already submerged beneath the water.
Without any actual water, it was an incredibly strange sensation. Yet somehow, I understood what was happening to me, not through words and not through explanation. The knowledge simply appeared directly in my mind.
The Sphere was literally washing away every lingering trace of Slaanesh's influence from my soul and body, employing the incomparable mastery over the Warp once possessed by the Old Ones themselves.
Back when the Warp hadn't yet been infested with daemons.
At the same time, other changes were occurring.
My Aeldari body was becoming stronger.
Faster.
More resilient.
More perfect.
The Old Ones had been the greatest geneticists and bio-engineers in the history of the Milky Way, perhaps even across multiple galaxies. The organisms they created could never have arisen through natural evolution.
The Krork.
The Aeldari.
Both were living masterpieces of biological engineering, and while I lay unconscious, the Sphere had improved me even further.
Refined me.
Elevated me.
The closest comparison would be transforming an Adeptus Astartes into a Primaris Space Marine or perhaps even into an Adeptus Custodes.
That last analogy was especially appropriate.
Harlequins were, in many ways, the Aeldari equivalent of Custodians. A body originally designed by a race of psychic demigods was being improved beyond its already absurd limits.
The comparison was simple.
The Emperor and the Old Ones had created Space Marines and ordinary Aeldari. Belisarius Cawl had refined the former into Primaris Marines. Likewise, Cegorach and his servants had transformed ordinary Aeldari into something greater for the eternal war against Chaos.
The difference was that the Laughing God bound the souls of his followers directly to himself. Like strings attached to puppets in a grand performance. Yes, that sounded suspiciously like Harlequins were little more than puppets, but there was another side to that arrangement.
As there always was in this cursed universe, there was another side to that arrangement. When the moment came, Cegorach could seize those strings and yank a follower's soul away from the grasping claws of Slaanesh.
Death was common in this galaxy.
Being a puppet was infinitely preferable to becoming a toy for Chaos. I wasn't nearly arrogant enough to dismiss the possibility of my soul ending up in the Warp's clutches.
At least now I understood how Harlequins could fight Adeptus Custodes on relatively equal terms and occasionally even defeat them through surprise.
Like the Custodians, they represented the pinnacle of their species.
There was no hidden mystery.
No secret psychic technique.
No grand revelation.
The answer was absurdly simple.
Genetic perfection.
Training.
Skill.
That was it.
So simple that almost nobody could believe it.
Not in Warhammer.
Everyone expected some arcane explanation for the incredible power of the Harlequins. Something mystical. Something unknowable.
No one imagined that the answer was simply superior biology and endless practice. As a result, everyone kept searching for a black cat in a dark room. A cat that wasn't even there. Needless to say, they rarely found it.
Magnificent, Laughing God.
Bravo.
And for once, I wasn't being sarcastic.
Serving a deity that clever wasn't exactly shameful.
Yes, yes, very funny, Lord Cegorach. Look at me, a former atheist, desperately convincing myself that serving a god is perfectly reasonable.
"...As you know, little fool…our war against Chaos is both beginning and eternal."
The Laughing God's laughter echoed through the absolute darkness surrounding me. There was no way to determine where the voice originated.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
"For this war we shall require more partisans! Throughout human history, your former people proved remarkably talented in that role. Thus, I place certain hopes upon you, my little fool, my magnificent prankster! Hee-hee-ha-ha!"
The voice became almost theatrical.
"So receive now your ritual name, bestowed personally by your new god. Henceforth, you shall be known as Knowing Jester! Like all names among my Harlequins, it defines the facets of your soul and the purpose that shall guide you in life and death alike."
The sensation was oddly similar to a puppet master patiently explaining matters to one of his marionettes.
Except I didn't have time to dwell on that comparison.
Pain exploded through my skull.
Divine power carved.
Etched.
Burned.
Forged.
My new name into existence.
My human name vanished.
My Aeldari name vanished.
My Harlequin name emerged.
And suddenly it felt as though it had always existed.
As though I had always been called Knowing Jester.
The one who knew.
The one who understood more than others.
That was the human part of me.
And the fool.
The Harlequin.
The performer.
That was the Aeldari.
Knowing Jester.
In every memory, whether human or Aeldari, that name now occupied the place where the others had once stood.
Oddly enough, I couldn't decide whether I missed my old name at all.
The memories attached to them felt distant.
Blurred.
Insignificant.
And yet Cegorach's words rang true.
The past belonged in the past.
If I intended to survive in this universe, I needed to focus on the present and the future.
The very things reflected by my new name.
Of course, I could adopt another identity whenever diplomacy required it.
A false Aeldari name.
A mask.
But my true name would forever be the one granted by my god, like every Harlequin before me. These realizations unfolded amidst a theatrical performance that materialized around me. Actors reenacted the rejection of the past. They demonstrated how Harlequins disguised themselves as ordinary Aeldari, or more accurately, how they played the role of ordinary Aeldari.
"Knowing Jester... It is time to discuss your greatest Joke. Hee-hee-hee! Ah, what a marvelous undertaking awaits us, one so amusing that it constantly provokes my laughter!"
The deity's voice echoed from every direction.
"Besides, we must wait while naïve Slaanesh indulges herself upon the souls of your people, now struck by misfortune! Oh, and my fellow gods, who did nothing to stop this tragedy, who never attempted to save the Aeldari from their hedonism! Their fate shall prove equally entertaining!"
This fanatical rhyme-spouting lunatic spent an awful lot of time talking to me.
Weren't gods supposed to remain mysterious, speak in cryptic riddles, and spend most of their existence doing absolutely nothing?
It was refreshing to discover that Cegorach wasn't one of those idiots. He was surprisingly practical.
"I know," I replied with a shrug, feeling an almost unnatural calm settle over me. "And since you don't intend to interfere... we should focus on making the joke I proposed a reality."
A grin spread across my face.
"Oh, just imagining the reaction of the people we're going to prank..."
"I know! I know!"
Cegorach burst into delighted laughter.
"Oh yes! This masterpiece shall be worth thousands of years of preparation! Hoo-hoo-hoo! It shall be glorious!"
"Thousands of years?"
I paused.
Then smiled even wider.
"So I'll live for thousands of years and eventually pull off a prank of that scale? What more could anyone ask for? Besides, a legendary joke should resemble an epic saga, not someone moving a pen from one side of a table to the other."
"Then listen well to our repertoire, my little fool and mischief-maker!"
And so two maliciously giggling jesters began plotting the Grand Jest in this grim universe. As tradition demanded, we rubbed our hands together and laughed like proper villains.
After all...
This was merely the overture. The opening act of a performance destined to span twelve millennia.
…..
The Fall of the Aeldari accelerated rapidly.
In response, Cegorach gathered his Harlequins with remarkable speed and dispatched them throughout the galaxy to aid those Aeldari who had not yet been consumed by the birth of Slaanesh.
There were still many survivors.
While She Who Thirsts was occupied battling the Aeldari gods themselves, the Laughing God acted from the shadows.
As always.
His goal was simple.
Save as many of his people as possible.
Unlike the other gods, he held no illusions about defeating Slaanesh at this moment.
A sensible decision.
Especially since gods clearly possessed some form of foresight. Not to mention that I had supplied him with knowledge of the original timeline, one that had not yet been completely shattered by the butterfly effect.
Though if anyone could truly exploit that advantage, it would be a god. Not a reincarnator who spent every waking hour training and getting punched in the head.
I was dispatched as well.
My first destination was a completely ordinary armory where I would receive the standard equipment issued to every Harlequin.
Custom modifications could come later.
The possibilities were practically endless, and no, there was no grand ritual where a Harlequin personally forged every piece of equipment from scratch.
Nothing so dramatic.
The basic kit simply appeared from somewhere unknown and was handed out. What truly surprised me was something else.
Namely, a joke that sounded disturbingly familiar.
"And one final warning, Knowing Jester."
The quartermaster, another Harlequin, fixed me with an authoritative stare.
"If you lose any piece of this expensive equipment, the cost shall be deducted from your wages. You will remain in service until the age of fifty thousand and ten years because that is how long it will take to repay the full value of a standard Harlequin loadout. Should such an unfortunate event occur, report the loss to the armory, receive replacement equipment, then return and report to me immediately, Trouper Harlequin! Dismissed!"
...
I stared at him.
Completely dumbfounded.
"Uh..."
Brilliant response.
Truly.
"A-ha-ha-ha! A wonderful joke, is it not? A magnificent one!"
The quartermaster clapped enthusiastically while his mask displayed obvious amusement.
"Our god personally introduced that one!"
"I... see..." I answered slowly while a fresh source of laughter appeared inside my head. Technically, it wasn't even plagiarism.
If I made that joke, I'd be plagiarizing too.
The mysteries of Cegorach truly knew no bounds.
The divine laughter in my mind only intensified.
"Then I'll go get dressed."
I picked up an elegant green case decorated with playing card motifs and intricate Aeldari runes.
"Go on, go on, Knowing Jester..."
The Harlequin waved me away, chuckling under his breath. I had a feeling I would need to get used to hearing familiar jokes from Aeldari. Otherwise I'd spend centuries entertaining them with my reactions.
I had been thoroughly blindsided.
So thoroughly that it overshadowed the strange sensations flowing through my newly enhanced body. Now I finally understood how my instructors had utterly demolished me in training despite our physical capabilities appearing nearly equal.
So that was the secret behind it all.
Interesting.
Very interesting indeed.